


Fun in Cages

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual, Souled Spike (BtVS), Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-19
Updated: 2007-11-09
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Angelus is back and  has been caged by his friends. Through an elaborate double-cross, souled!Spike ends up in the cage with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the Buffy episode "Lies My Parents Told Me" and the Angel episode "Soulless" where I pretend that these two happened about the same time.
> 
> Oh. And tranquilizer darts are amazingly resilient and multi-purpose. Wes is pretty dark in this.

“I’m sorry,” Spike gasped.

“Sorry?” Robin Wood smiled incredulously. “You think you can say you’re sorry?”

Spike blinked, came to himself, and punched the principal of Sunnydale High. “Wasn’t talking to you.”

Robin had only a moment to realize how far south his plan was heading, and then the vampire was up. “I don’t give a piss about your mum,” he said.

Robin almost didn’t make it to his backup weapon, but Spike obligingly threw him right at it.

The vampire twitched and fell with a scent of ozone and burning, just like a human. The taser fell from a hand too beaten and tired to keep holding it. Robin crawled up the crucifix-laden wall. Time for plan B.

* * *

Spike awakened first to the knowledge that he was somewhere else. The smell was off. He lost consciousness in a garage smelling of raw wood and paint. The darkness around him smelled older, dustier, cinder block and mustiness and … Angel?

Spike opened his eyes on a concrete floor. He twisted his arms and found them bound behind him. He rose to his knees and saw iron bars. Behind the bars: Angel, watching him intently. “Oh,” said Spike. He turned. The bars, interestingly enough, did not surround him, only Angel. “Bugger all…?”

“They brought you in here,” Angel said. “Not five minutes ago. You might have time before they get back. Spike, they’ve gone insane. They’re going to lock you up like they did me. Get me out of here and we'll fight them together.”

Not only was Spike free to walk about the basement, but Angel was talking at him like they were on the same side. Had his poor brain finally given up?

“Do it for Buffy, Spike. You can’t let yourself be captured like this. She needs you.”

Spike tried to stand and failed. He felt the handcuffs grind against the concrete with a satisfying scrape, giving him hope that the metal was at least, what? Roughed up some? He crawled closer to Angel's cage on knees and elbows. “I know why I’m here,” he said. “Principal wanker. I killed his mum. Right out of his gourd. But why you? Someone set up a ‘capture the good vamps’ club?” He narrowed his eyes. “And why are you bein’ civil? To me?”

Angel stood. “We don’t have time for this, Spike. Use your brain for half a second. See if you can get your wrists where I can reach them.”

Spike calmed. That was the broody pouf he knew and loathed. He wrenched himself around and felt Angel reaching through the bars, guiding his wrists toward him.

A door above burst open and boots pounded down the stairs. “He’s awake. Grab him!”

Spike found himself suddenly the object of a tug-of-Spike game. Wood kicked the bars of the cage with resounding fury, dragging Spike away from the very nearly helpful ministrations of his sire.

Spike did his best to thrash against the erstwhile principal, who responded by pinning him to the floor with one knee against the small of his back.

Another bloke stood near at hand, loading a shotgun. “It was irresponsible to leave him, even for a moment. If Angelus had gotten him free…”

British accent. All repressed and watcher-like, and he smelled of dry old books and cheap rum, which clinched it. Spike snarled. “What the hell do you want with me, Watcher? I didn’t do anything to you.”

Wood pushed Spike’s face against the floor. “You’re getting a slow death, Spike. One I hope you stay awake to enjoy.”

Wesley walked into Spike’s field of vision, holding his shotgun thoughtfully. “Check the bindings. We don’t want Angel hurt. We could still get his soul back into him.”

Spike’s eyes widened. He tried to turn his head back toward the cage. Angelus laughed.

“Oh bloody hell.” Spike struggled with renewed vigor. “You put me in there he’s gonna kill me.”

“That’s the idea.” Wesley stood casually and fired two shots at the cage. Angelus howled, stared down at the fluffy darts sticking out of his nice silk shirt, and fell over. Wesley popped the shotgun open. “This is taking too long. Let’s tranquilize this one as well.”

“No! He stays awake.” Robin pulled Spike up to his knees and started dragging him toward the cage.

Wesley sighed and re-loaded his weapon.

Spike twisted. “Come on, it was supposed to be me n’ you, yeah? One on one for revenge. You don’t want to do this.”

“No, I really do,” Robin said, opening the cage.

Wesley kept his weapon aimed at Angelus’ prone body, not taking any chances as Spike was thrown through the door and the cage closed.

Spike scrambled immediately to try and catch the door, but all he could do was lean against the bars and scream after Robin and Wesley as they made their calm way up the basement steps.

“Damn it, I’m one of the bleedin’ WHITE HATS!”

* * *

Wesley set his tranquilizer gun down on the hotel’s reception counter. Without a trace of emotion he turned to Robin. “Well, that could have been easier. How do you feel?”

“Hollow,” Robin confessed. “But… I have to see it through.”

Wesley shrugged and adjusted the video monitor. He watched the blonde vampire squirming around near the door to the cage, ever the optimist, apparently. Angelus was still, the bright dart feathers standing out proudly from his chest. Good grouping, Wesley thought absently.

“I gotta say,” Robin squinted at Wesley. “You’re a lot more ‘rogue’ now you’ve stopped calling yourself a ‘rogue demon hunter’.”

“Stole the silly title from you,” Wesley said, with his first hint of a smile.

* * *

Spike found the jointure of the handcuffs behind him – the nub where the chain links attached. He rubbed that against the floor, hoping to wear through the weak point. He kept his eyes on Angelus’ still form, certain his erstwhile sire would not be happy to see him when he awoke. Or he would be happy, and that was worse.

One of Angel’s fat fingers twitched. Fuck. Fucker was waking up. Spike redoubled his efforts, though he smelled blood and felt his wrist-bones grinding against metal. The skin alongside each cuff was sticky with seeping plasma and hot with friction.

Angelus lifted a hand and sleepily fingered a dart.

Feeling desperate, Spike tried humming “Early One Morning.” Oh sod it, he was free, just when being able to turn into a mindless puppet of evil would come in handy. Emphasis on the mindless.

Angelus opened an eye. “Nervous, William?”

Spike stilled his efforts, tried to still his fear, which he knew Angelus could all too easily detect. “Well, I’d feel better if you helped me out of these cuffs.”

Angelus plucked the darts from his chest and tossed them toward the back wall. He rolled onto his side and regarded Spike with a smile.

Angelus smiling was, in fact, the worst possible expression. It was a genuine smile, too, a little lopsided and relaxed.

“So,” Spike called up some false cheer. “Got lucky?”

The smile broadened into a leer. “Very.”

Spike tested the chain. Nope. Not weak enough to break yet. “Well. No reason this can’t be a pleasant sort of lay about. We can still both get out of here, yeah? Two heads better than one and all. Just like old times? Sire?”

Angelus shook his head and rose to his feet. “Tsk. That’s the best you could come up with? An appeal to old times?"

"Didn't think you'd want to play darts."

Angelus stood far too close, his face shadowed as he looked down. "Or we could talk about your soul."

“Oh,” Spike said. “You noticed that, then.”

Angelus hauled spike up by his throat. “What I want to know,” Angelus growled, pressing Spike to the bars, “is why. For my benefit? It’s perverse. Damn waste of magic. Should have told them I’d kill you without it. You’re enough of a mockery already.”

“Well there’s a surprise. Mighty Angelus thinks it’s all about him.”

“Shh,” Angelus forced Spike’s neck to bend with a hard dig of his thumb. “It’s about me, boy. It always is. See, they threw you in here not to kill you, but to keep me busy.” Angelus let his lips skim lightly on pale, taut skin. “You’re nothing but a few moments. Time I’ll be spending not planning my great escape.”

Spike coughed up half a chuckle. “Don’t you think… you might… want to NOT give ‘em what they want, then?”

“Well,” Angelus pulled back to look him in the eyes and shrugged. “The deep dark secret is, I don’t have a great escape plan.” He jerked his head to the side, indicating the bars. “Someone almost as smart as me designed this cage.”

“Give me a chance. I can pick a lock.”

“Oh, I’ll give you all sorts of chances, William. Wonder if you’ll break in the same pretty ways now that you’re a sad parody of my past.”

Angelus felt Spike sag in his hands, and it brought a whole new smile to his face.

“Don’t,” Spike said. “Please… just don’t.”

Angelus brushed Spike’s cheek. “You ought to remember begging just makes me horny. Let’s start with a drink.”

Angelus’ demon visage came forward, seeming a widening of his grin. The bite was hard, fangs grazing collarbone and digging, worming back and forth greedily to open the hole larger.

Spike closed his eyes and tried to wait it out. Ignore the feel of the larger body against his, the pain, spiked hair raking back and forth across his ear, the slurps and greedy little noises, the pull as though every vessel in his body was being drawn into that mouth, taut as trip-wires and burning at each anchor point, and the growing erection pressing hard into his gut, filled with his own borrowed blood.

Not happening. Just not happening. Hum a happy tune.

Dizziness began to settle in and if Spike’s heart could beat, it would have stopped.

Only then did Angelus let his body crumple to the floor.

“Feeling weak, boy?”

Darkness flashed in his vision as Spike forced himself to roll onto his back and meet Angelus’ gaze. “Not scared.”

“No? Your blood tastes deliciously of terror. Almost made it palatable. What have you been living on? Pig?”

“When you get your soul back, when they shove it back inside you like I know they will, tell Buffy…”

“Oh please!” Angelus pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Not the over-dramatic protestations!”

“Tell her I died spitting in your face.”

To emphasize which point Spike drew himself up and spat, hitting Angelus square on the nose.

He kept his smile of triumph through the first two punches, laughing through the pain as his face bloodied.

Angelus tore down the front of Spike's shirt, using the strip of black cloth to clean the spittle from his face. “You’re going to pay for that. I was going to be merciful… well, not really, but I was going to be a whole lot less sadistic than I have to be now.”

“With what? You got your two hands, your fangs, and a soddin’ limited imagination, Angelus.” He curled his bleeding lips into a sarcastic grin. “Oh please don’t threaten and bluster me to death!”

Angelus sighed and shook his head. “Wrong again. As always. Shall we list the tools at my disposal? Gravity.” He hauled Spike up with one hand around his neck and then dropped him again. “Oh, those cuffs on your wrists and ankles. You’ll love to see what I can do with those and the right applied pressure.” He nudged Spike’s shin, pushing his ankles slightly apart against the binding cuffs. “And, of course,” he took a step back and scooped something off the ground. He jangled it in his hand, testing the weight.

The tranquilizer dart hit Spike in the stomach a second before he realized what was happening and tried to roll away.

“Then there’re the sharp pointy metal things they so graciously left me. And what else does a torturer need, really? Something sharp, and something blunt.” Angelus set his knee on Spike’s sternum and with one hand deftly undid Spike’s belt buckle, drawing the thick leather belt out with one hard tug that caused the slight vampire to arch upward. The buckle clattered against the floor. “And last, there’s my very rich, very powerful imagination.” He pulled the dart from Spike’s stomach with an unnecessary twist. “The soul may have dulled my wits and kept me bound, but imagination… I’ve always had that.” He dragged the dart upward, skimming Spike's skin playfully. “Now. Why don’t you roll over like a good boy?”

Spike’s teeth clenched hard. “Just… as I feared. Talking me to death.”

He made a futile effort to knee Angelus, put all his strength and body into it, but the impact was soft, the other vampire moving back easily from the blow.

“Spike. With a soul.” Angelus shook his head. “I can see it’s taken the fight out of you. Feeling guilty, Spike? Feeling all those poor, innocent people?” Angelus sing-songed this last. Spike felt a moment of vertigo as he was hauled up almost to his feet. “Doesn’t it make you want to be punished? Oh, but you ALWAYS wanted to be punished, didn’t you?” Angel threw Spike against the bars, pulled him back and hit him into them again. “Hrm. Amazing. Your skull ISN’T thick enough to dent steel. Guess we really are stuck in here.”

Spike tried to shake off the stun… somehow his feet found the ground. He tried to push his way sideways, out of Angelus’ tight embrace. Gasping and finding his breath again, he said, “Be a sport and knock me unconscious?”

He was pressed harder into the bars, a knee against the small of his back. “Tell me who it was put that soul in you just to piss me off.”

Spike coughed a laugh, though it strained his ribs. “That’d be ME, you thick-headed, half-witted ape-faced neander…”

He was cut short by a fist to the kidneys that felt like a block of cement.

“You’ll tell me soon enough. Was it Willow? A little favor for Buffy? She couldn’t have me so she thought she’d make herself the next best thing?” His thick fingers curled around the waistband of Spike’s jeans. “Can I fuck it out of you?”

“I’m not you. Doesn’t have anything to do with you. I won my soul back myself, and it’s a damn sight better than yours.”

Angelus groaned. “Enough foreplay,” he said, and threw Spike across the cell. He hit the brick wall at the back, and felt strangely grateful for the change of texture while he rolled his face against it, trying to get his feet back under him. The lack of blood had his legs feeling like sandbags.

Then he was up again, shoulders screaming in protest as Angelus hefted him by his bound wrists, pressing him face-first into the wall. There was a stabbing sound, and chalky grit sprayed over his face. He blinked and sputtered. Angelus had shoved one of the darts through the chain linking his cuffs, impaling it in the brick-mortar.

That won’t hold, Spike thought. He bit his lip and forced himself to pull back, though it felt like his arms were going to pop their sockets.

The dart fell impotently down his chest, but Angelus didn’t seem bothered. He’d already unfastened and stripped Spike’s jeans down. Spike stumbled backward from the force of pulling the dart only to fall on his ass, his legs bound together at the knee by his jeans.

Spike tried to roll and crawl away. His shoulders were on fire. Angelus hummed his appreciation and crawled over him. He lazily ripped the ragged pieces of Spike’s t-shirt off. “You know, normally,” riiiip! “I like to get inside a victim’s head. Really fuck with their mind.” Riiiiip! “But I just realized… you don’t HAVE a mind, Spike.”

Angelus took a moment to run a hand appreciatively over the newly-bared chest. “What’s the matter, Spikey? Run out of witty retorts? Mmm… look at you. Pity you’re not alive, you know? No pounding heart. Torturing a vampire’s like…. Like sugar-substitute. Not as tasty, but you get to eat all you want.” Angelus peeled off Spike, thrusting once as he rolled to his feet. He stepped over Spike and picked up the discarded belt. Angelus folded it and snapped the leather twice, testing it.

Spike stopped struggling. He kept his eyes focused on a random point on the ceiling.

“Come on, then, boy, roll over for me.”

Spike tried to laugh but it came out a cough. “Like hell.”

It didn’t matter, Angelus was able to do the job himself with three kicks, knocking his prey against the wall of the cell until at last he fell on his stomach. “That’s more like it.” Angelus ran his palm over Spike’s back and stroked his ass and thigh. “That’s how you should be. That’s where you belong. Now get up on your knees.”

“Fuck off.”

Angelus passed his hand once more, lovingly, over the smooth white globes of Spike’s ass, before letting the belt fall hard on the right cheek. "Mm nice sound. Firm. You should eat more, boy." Angelus went to work: right cheek, left, small of the back, thighs. “Oh you should see this, William. Even half drained your skin pinks up nicely. You always did seem so human.” He ran a hand over his work. "I can just feel a little heat. Not what I'd get from a live victim, but still, it's something. Makes me hard."

Angelus let the belt unfold and struck at Spike’s bound arms with the buckle end, enjoying the renewed struggle that brought each muscle into relief as shoulders twisted helplessly. Angelus let the belt play gently down his victim’s spine. “Want to ask me for something, William? Mercy? Respite? Your hands?”

Spike managed to twist enough to look behind him. “Just get on with it. You’re…” his gasp for breath was poorly timed, but Spike went on anyway, “boring me.”

Angelus sighed. He struck Spike’s face and then tossed the belt aside. “You never did have the proper patience, William. No sense for art.”

Angelus pushed Spike’s knees apart, putting his own between them and jabbed two dry fingers hard into Spike’s anus, all the preparation he cared to indulge in, despite his words about patience.

Spike stifled his scream against the cold cement, pressing his lips to the grime rather than give Angelus the satisfaction. Watery dread spread through his bowels. He tried to focus the pain and horror into pulling his wrists apart, getting that damn chain to break. That was a hotter pain, dry, the straining of nerves and bone where his shoulders wouldn’t move as they ought anymore. At least it kept him from feeling the violation as Angelus nudged teasingly at his entrance.

“Yes! Keep struggling. God, you’re so much fun when you don’t know when to quit!”

Angelus pushed Spike's bound wrists into his back and Spike’s vision flickered almost to black. Then there was the intrusion – huge, unrelenting. Spike threw all his strength into arching his body up, away, he cried and thrashed, but all he felt was hard, unyielding stone and flesh.

* * *

Wesley sipped his tea, watching as Angelus flipped the other vampire over with a complete lack of gentleness. Poor William the Bloody had his face pressed to the cold floor now, his still-shackled wrists being pushed forward by Angelus’ hand. That had to hurt. The shoulders were definitely dislocated now. Or was that a shadow? Wesley leaned forward, irritated by the poor video quality.

Robin was pacing. “You really want to watch all of it?”

“You shouldn’t do a thing you aren’t prepared to see,” Wesley replied. He leaned back and took another comforting sip of tea. “Besides, it isn’t often a watcher gets to see two vampires in such controlled circumstances.”

Robin shook his head. “You are one cold son-of-a-bitch.”

Wesley smiled like it was a compliment.

Robin tried not to watch, but every stray glance as he paced the hotel lobby showed him more than he wanted to know: a pale form struggling, stark against the darker concrete. The muted struggle could be heard over the set’s small speakers.

The front doors to the hotel opened, accompanied by a loud, girlish voice, laughing. Robin dove across the room to turn off the TV.

Wesley looked up with a cross expression, his teacup held out away from his body and a wet patch on his shirt-front.

Fred skipped across the room, swinging her shopping bag. “Hey Wes! Who’s your friend?”

“This is Robin Wood, a colleague from my demon hunting days. Robin, this is Winifred Burkle and Lorne, two of Angel’s…”

Robin wasn’t listening. He stared at the young woman’s escort, a green-skinned demon similarly loaded with shopping bags. “Another supposedly good-guy demon?”

Lorne lost his smile almost immediately and set down the bags in his right hand so he could take off his sunglasses. “How’s our patient?” He pointed the shades at the turned-off television.

Wes stood. “As to be expected.”

“Well,” Fred said, “We couldn’t be scared and helpless all day, so we went to get supplies. Lorne knew just where to look…”

Lorne, for his part, glanced from one circumspect face to another. “Okay, I’m going to bite. Why’s the vid off, kids? Angelus still in his cubby?”

“I turned it off,” Robin said. “He was getting disturbing.”

“He does that,” Fred said. “Did Wes bring you in to help? Do you know anything about the beast?”

“No, I’m just… I’m visiting.”

“Riiiight.” Lorne set down the rest of his packages and his sunglasses. “Well, I’ll just go check up on Angelcakes... devil’s food version. No sense leaving him alone too long.”

“No, wait…” Robin jumped in front of Lorne.

“No offense, sugar cube, but I don’t know you and I don’t trust you, so step aside.”

Wes sighed. “For pity’s sake. I’ll go.” He was still trying to dab the tea off his shirt. Fred fussed over him with some napkins.

“Or we could turn the TV back on,” Fred offered.

Wes shook his head. “Stay here,” he said. “You’ll probably not want to see what’s going on down there.”

Lorne watched Wesley walk nonchalantly to the basement stairs. He then turned and narrowed his red eyes at Robin. “And what,” he asked, “IS going on down there?”

Robin ran a hand over his head.

* * *

Angelus held pale hips in his hands, pulling and grinding a limp body; it seemed the other vampire had passed out. Wesley was not surprised how things had proceeded since the monitor had turned off. Nor was he surprised when Angelus smiled at his entrance and, with put-on nonchalance, said, “Wes! Thanks for the gift. Hold on a second, would you? I’m in the middle of something.”

Wesley kept his face expressionless – something he was getting far too much practice doing of late. He sat down in one of the chairs they’d left against the wall by the stairs, for Angelus watching. He rested his tranquilizer gun in his lap.

Angelus still wore the same dark plum shirt he’d had on before… before he was Angelus again. The face of his friend was there, grimacing with effort as his hips pumped away behind that hanging shirt, behind those bare, pale hips. His grimace got harder, he shuddered, slammed hard into the body before him, and relaxed, unashamed in his obvious completion. Wesley wondered if he would otherwise have ever seen Angel make that expression.

Angelus sighed, throwing Spike’s limp form aside. “Man, they’re just no fun when they pass out.”

Wesley averted his eyes as the vampire re-arranged his clothing.

“Of course you know,” Angelus said, “This doesn’t stop me from wanting to rip your fucking head off, you child-stealing son-of-a-bitch.”

“I hoped saving you from the bottom of the ocean would have won me a little forgiveness. Or do you not see that as you? In which case, do you still see yourself as Connor’s father?”

“Taking notes, Wes? Going to write a book?”

“It will be interesting to see how much more you’ll hate me after we return your soul,” Wesley commented dryly. “When you’ll look at me and know what I’ve watched you do.”

“Are all watchers voyeurs? I suppose it comes with the territory.” Angelus rested his arms against the bars and smiled. “Don’t worry. Soon as blondie wakes up we’ll continue the show.”

“You’re too kind.”

“I am.” Angelus sighed dramatically and wandered back over to Spike’s collapsed form. He grabbed the other vampire’s wrists and with a grunt and a tug, ripped the handcuffs apart. He looked up and smiled at Wes while he popped Spike’s dislocated shoulders back into place with his boot. “I’ll have days of fun, here. Are you having fun out there, Wes? Are you prepared to wait as long as I am?”

Wesley said nothing.

Angelus gathered Spike into his arms. “C’mon, Spikey. Getting bored here. How about a little pick-me-up?” He bit into his own wrist and held it to his victim’s lips. Spike’s eyelids fluttered, and his head moved.

Wesley watched.

* * *

Spike smelled blood, and then tasted blood, and for a moment that was all he could care about. There was blood here, and he was drinking it. Then he was aware vaguely of comfort, of being held, and this was all the more comforting because just about every part of his body was throbbing with pain.

Then a wet tongue slid up the side of his neck and he knew where he was, and who he was drinking from. He had to fight the revulsion, to force himself to hold on to the forearm in front of him, to keep drinking, drawing as much strength back into himself as he could before…

Angelus wrenched his arm from Spike’s grip. “That’s enough,” he said.

It wasn’t until he tried to grab for that arm that he realized his hands were in front of him, the cuffs just loose bracelets now, each with a few links of broken chain. He pulled back his fist and almost connected the blow before Angelus had both his wrists pinned again.

“Good,” Angelus said, “Now we get to start all over.”

* * *

Lorne and Fred listened in shock as Robin quietly explained what he and Wesley had done. “So Wes said it would be good to distract Angelus for a while, keep him from thinking of ways to get out and ways to mess with your minds. We each had a problem and we each had a solution for each other.”

“My god,” Fred said. She lifted her small chin. “Spike has a soul now.”

“That doesn’t change who he is or what he did.”

“I’m putting a stop to this.” Lorne said. “How many times am I going to have to hear you people say, ‘it’s only a demon?’ Fred? Come on.”

And the green demon led the march to the basement steps. Robin quickly overtook them. “Miss… Mister… um… look, you don’t want to see what he’s doing down there.”

Lorne raised his eyebrows. “You’re right. I don’t.” And he pulled open the door and stomped down the steps.

Angelus and Spike were writhing on the floor of the cage, Angelus mostly on top of Spike. One pale fist got free and swung, was quickly caught and pressed to the cement floor. Angelus laughed. “I should have freed your hands sooner. You’re much more fun like this.”

“Stop it!” Fred cried.

Angelus leaned back, lips parted in a sigh of ecstasy. “And there’s the one thing that was missing.” He turned to leer at Fred. “The gentle sound of a female voice.”

Spike’s voice came muffled from gritted teeth and Angelus’ forearm pressed into his throat. “I’m going to get free you tub of lard and when I do…”

“Wesley, shoot him.”

Wesley looked up at Lorne in confusion. “You shouldn’t be letting Fred see this,” he said.

“He has a soul,” Lorne said. “Not that that should matter,” he added with gritted teeth.

Fred grabbed Wesley’s arm. “Please, Wes, give me the gun.”

Blinking, still confused, but not one to question a united Fred-Lorne front, Wesley stood, gestured politely to clear the way and, stepping to the side to line up properly, shot two darts into Angelus’ shoulder.

Angelus howled in anger and threw Spike aside, lunging to the bars with the last of his strength before he collapsed, spread along the length of the cage.

Wesley cocked his gun up at his side and turned back to address his friends. “Spike has a soul?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Robin said, smacking the stair-rail for emphasis. “He’s a killer. A serial killer. He toyed with my mother for weeks before he killed her.”

In the cell, Spike was using his newly-freed hands and one of the discarded tranquilizer darts to break apart the chain between his ankles.

Wes walked toward the cage bars. “You knew?” He squinted at Robin.

Fred pushed past the former watcher and started undoing the locks. “Can we discuss this AFTER we get him out of there?”

Spike was standing now, his fingers wrapped around the bars, head barely held up, mouthing, “Yeah. C’mon. Lemmie out. White hat here.”

“You let him out and he’ll kill me!” Robin grabbed Wesley’s shoulder. “Soul or no, he’ll kill me.

Wesley stayed Fred’s hand, and spared Robin a cool glance. “Lorne, get something to secure our new guest.”

Spike almost collapsed with relief when the treble-locked gate was finally opened. He used the door to support himself. “Thank you. You’re not making a mistake, mate.”

Wesley smiled. He closed the cage door as soon as Spike stepped out and secured all the locks. “No, I certainly am not. Now we have something we can offer Angelus for his cooperation.”

Spike stared at the former watcher, then saw Robin Wood’s shoulders relax. “Oh bugger-fuck…”

Wesley swept the weakened vampire’s legs out from under him and soon had one hand pressed against a wounded shoulder-blade, the other securing Spike’s right wrist. “Lorne? Rope?”

“Wesley!” Fred tried to grab Wesley’s arm. “What are you doing?”

“Whatever it takes,” Wesley said. “Now get the rope. We’ll tie him up, safe, and then,” He looked directly at Robin, “We’ll all have a long talk.”

 

End.

Although I consider this a stand-alone piece, it has an ill-advised, less porny, continuation, so keep going if you like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a request by ash_carpenter on March 24, 2007 at "Feed My Kink".
> 
> "OK, I don't really care how or why (plot is basically entirely optional!), but Angelus is back. Either in the Hyperion, or a similar set-up, he has been caged by his friends. However, this must be Season 5+ because I want Spike with a soul. Spike is terrified, because he knows how Angelus will feel about him going out and earning a soul, and what he is likely to do to him. Someone (doesn't really matter who, but Robin Wood might make sense as he has a motive and can get close to everyone) captures Spike and basically puts him in the cage with Angelus. I want typically evil Angelus and non-con, maybe BDSM. The ending/outcome is the writer's choice however. Can be angsty, or happy, or surprising - whatever! Most kinks are a go with me, so have whatever fun with it you like!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, since I am your devoted servant, I have listened to my commentors and written a sequel to "Fun in Cages".
> 
> It's all plot at this point, no porn. (Sorry.) I also doubt it will entirely go where you all hoped it would... but I had to follow as the story led, kinda? Not really sure where this is going myself. Hope that insecurity doesn't show.

Weak from torture, and still a quart low, Spike put up little resistance as the watcher tied him. Whoever this Wes was, he had a disturbing competence with rope. He made the loops just loose enough not to bite into Spike’s bare skin. Spike was dragged across the room to a waiting chair. The metal cuffs from the broken wrist and ankle restraints were still on him, nestled now against loops of rope. His jeans were his only other garment. His belt, the tatters of his t-shirt, and his doc martens were all in Angelus’ cell.

Wesley laid his cheek next to Spike’s shoulder and whispered a word or two in oddly accented Latin. The ropes shimmered a little. “Does everybody know that bloody charm?” Spike quipped, trying for levity as he looked from one to the other of his captors. The girl, she looked nice, sad even, for him. He kept his eyes on her.

They left him in the same room. Of course they did. Why have two places to hold your captive vamps when you can have one?

The nice girl – Fred they called her – brought him a mug of warmed pig’s blood and held it for him while he drank.

Angelus was already stirring again in his cell, plucking out the tranq darts.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Fred said, sounding for all the world like a hostess apologizing for a lack of canapés. “I’m sure it’s only temporary. Wesley’s not a bad man. He just… well, he’s really smart and if he has a plan it’s probably a good one. I mean, there was this thing where he stole Angel’s child and all, but that wasn’t his fault, there was a prophecy…” she waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, they’re waiting for me upstairs. I promise you I’m going to tell them all about what Willow said about you.”

Spike couldn’t help smiling, though he felt far from reassured. He raised his head from the straw. “And what did Red have to say about me?”

“Oh, well that you’re on the good side now. And have a soul and all. It was quite the bit of gossip. I mean, I call Willow to ask her if she knows anything about this beast thing, and right in the middle of the conversation she blurts ‘Spike has a soul now!’ and I say, ‘Spike who?’ and she explains how they have a vampire in Sunnydale helping them out just like we have Angel here in LA.”

Spike grimaced.

“You want more blood?” Fred peered into the mug. There were only dregs left. “Does the last little bit of a cup of blood taste bad like the last bit of a cup of coffee does? I hate that last bit.”

“No, pet, ‘m fine.”

“Okay. Well, anyway, the first thing I said was, ‘does yours get all broody?’ and Willow said ‘Oh no! He’s the opposite of broody.’ Which made me wonder what else was different…”

Spike closed his eyes. Why had he said he was fine? He should have asked for another cup of blood! Now he’d have to wait for the bird to take a breath, and it was looking babbling was her super-power. Willow must have been hard-pressed to keep up.

“She told me how you were always pretending to be this bad guy but you were really sweet and kind of a romantic, like you even had a steady girlfriend for a century and most vampires do NOT go in for the monogamy thing…”

“Pet? Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“Hm? Oh, yes.” She ducked her head and smiled, melting all irritation he’d felt at her prattle. “I’d better go.” She gathered up the mug.

“I’m counting on you,” Spike said. “Let them know: I’m not like Angelus. Never was.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

And then she was gone, up the stairs.

And Angelus was back to sitting on the cot in his cage, looking right at Spike. He had a piece of black cloth in his hand, which he trailed lovingly over his cheek. He turned his nose into it and inhaled noisily before returning his grin to Spike.

“You can fuck right off,” Spike said to him. “I’m no fledge to be intimidated from across the room.”

Angelus’ smirk showed him to be well-pleased with this reaction. “I like what you said to Winifred. You were never like me. Truer words have never passed your lips. You were never a leader. Never your own man.”

“Never was a sadistic bastard,” Spike tilted his head back. “And I no longer give a rat’s tit what you think about me so go ahead, continue. I’ll just lean back and admire your cage.” He shifted his shoulders against the metal chair and hoped he just looked like he was holding his hands behind his back.

“I won’t be in here forever.”

“No. They’re gonna let you out the second you have your poufy soul back. More’s the pity.”

Angelus walked to the edge of the cage and rested his wrists on the bars over his head. In a friendly, nonchalant tone, he asked, “Did they let you clean my cum out of you before they tied you up?”

Spike lost his smug expression and Angelus chuckled, rocking his head against his forearm in amusement. “Look, Ma! No hands! I can intimidate you from across the room, William. Always could.”

“Seem to recall a man, looked a lot like you, tied to a bed, screaming while sweet Dru made pretty colors on his chest.” Spike raised his head defiantly. “Seem to recall being across the room at the time.”

“You were always too prissy to get your hands into a good torture session,” Angelus smirked. “Try another one. Besides, it wasn’t me.”

“Wasn’t…” Spike sputtered. He blinked. “Wasn’t YOU?”

Angelus rolled his eyes. “Do we have to go through this every time?” He held his palms out like he was comparing weights. “Angel – Angelus, Angelus – Angel.”

“You really are thick. I have a soul now.”

Angelus nodded. “For which insult I intend to make you suffer.”

“Yeah. Spike. Has a soul.” He struggled anew, trying to straighten up as high in his chair as he could, trying to move closer. “Same tosser who sat back and watched you get burned. Same punk had you strung up and run through with pokers. That’s me. So don’t give me the Angel/AngelUS song. I know your terrible secret, mate. I know the difference a soul makes.”

Angelus shrugged and walked back to his cot.

“Would the poufy scourge like some Manilow while he waits?”

Angelus sighed. He picked up a small piece of black fabric that was on the cot and rumpled it in his fingers. “No, Spike. The anticipation is enough pleasure on its own.” He smoothed the scrap out again against his chest.

“Anticipate spending more time alone in that cell of yours. Anticipate watching my firm white arse walk up those stairs and away from you forever.”

Angelus blinked slowly. “Well… your ass will be involved, yes.”

Spike turned his head away, shutting Angelus out visually, at least.

“See, patience is on my side. As usual. They didn’t tie you up there so they could discuss how best to free you, boy. I’m the one they need. The one they want something from. The one they care about, well, the one in the body they care about. You… you’re just what I said. A few minutes’ distraction.”

***

“I don’t know what this vampire-with-soul versus without-soul stuff even means,” Robin paced the lobby, arms folded in front of him. “But I do know that SPIKE has killed people. SINCE getting his soul. And he will kill again.”

Wesley had turned the monitor on again and crouched, fiddling with the VCR controls. He hummed, half to himself.

“Well, I think he’s nice,” Fred said, coming in from the cellar. She stormed toward the kitchen with the blood-mug in hand. “And so does Willow, and if you can’t trust a witch, who can you trust?”

“We can trust Lorne,” Wes said. He straightened. “There’s a point, early on in this tape, where Spike hummed a song.”

Lorne popped up from behind the bar with a sigh and a bottle of gin. “I don’t do recordings,” he said. “They don’t make magnetic tapes that can catch nuances of aura.”

“Oh,” Wes said, frowning. “Well I guess we’ll have to get him to sing.”

Robin crossed the room in three strides. “Did I just cross over into Broadway?”

“Lorne is an empath,” Wes said, “He reads people through song. He can tell us if Spike is to be trusted.”

Robin pushed back the sides of his jacket to hold onto his hips. “And we’re just supposed to trust this freak?”

“That ‘freak’ is a respected member of this team,” Wesley said, for the first time raising his voice above a gravely whisper. “You are not. I suggest you remember that.”

“Speaking of,” Lorne titled his head to look around the imposing figure before him. “What IS tall, dark and menacing still doing here?”

“I stay,” Robin responded, “until my job is done.”

“Or Monday,” Wesley said. He raised an eyebrow at Robin. “You do have work.”

“I’ll call in.” Robin returned to his pacing. “So that’s your plan? You’re just going to test him and, if he passes, let him go? What about what you owe me?”

“Lorne’s reading isn’t a part of the plan,” Wesley said, compressing his lips into a line. “Any additional information will be useful. As I told you, we now have something Angelus wants. From what I’ve seen I think it is something he will want very badly. Your mission might have been revenge, but I and my people have a city to save, and that evil, soulless beast downstairs supposedly has the key.”

Lorne set down his glass. “I’m not reading some poor shmoe just so you can feed him to the anti-angel.”

Wesley turned to face Lorne. “Have you heard Angelus sing?”

Lorne suppressed a shudder. “Slightly better than Angel, tone-wise, but oh! The aura!”

“Then you know better than I do, from my studies, what sorts of things motivate a creature like him. We are going to be playing his motivations, Lorne, not feeding them. But I want to know how far I can go… how far this ‘Spike’ will let me go.”

Fred came up and set a hand on Lorne’s arm. “I don’t like this plan, Wesley. It all sounds… kind of dishonest. AND crazy. We don’t kill innocent people… okay, vampires aren’t innocent in general, but, Wesley? How can offering up one vampire’s life make a difference to Angelus in the first place? He’ll just lie to get what he wants and we’ll be left feeling all horrible and violated for going along with it.”

Lorne hugged her shoulders and looked reprovingly at Wesley.

“Angelus cares about Spike,” Wesley said. “I don’t mean that in a romantic or even friendly sense. I mean he has emotions, strong emotions, attached to this other vampire. I’ve been watching and I saw it. If you want to get to someone, you have to go through what they care about.” Wesley flicked the monitor off and walked toward the basement. “Fred, find Cordelia. I think she’s resting. Lorne, you’re with me. Robin – you may come if you promise to be quiet and watch.”

“I can do that,” Robin said. “For a while.” He followed Wes, shaking his head. “You aren’t the same man I saved from that Fyarl four years ago.”

Fred and Lorne paused, unsure of what to do.

“Who put Wesley back in charge?” Fred laid her head on Lorne’s raspberry-colored arm. “Why couldn’t it be one of us?”

“I don’t know, sweetpea. Maybe we should ask Gunn when he gets back.” He sighed and looked after Wes and Robin’s retreating forms.

“Right.” Fred pushed off. “I’ll get reinforcements. You… make sure no one kills anybody!”

Lorne grimaced. “Because I am the fighting powerhouse.”

***

“Ways in which we aren’t alike,” Spike announced, as though beginning a recitation. He was combating Angelus’ dark insinuations with pure noise. “One: I was never stupid enough to eat a gypsy. Two: I have a soul and I’m still not a ponce. Three: sought out the most challenging fights I could while you specialized in terrorizing schoolgirls. Four…”

He stopped at the sound of the door upstairs opening.

Angelus paused in his pacing as well. He had been running Spike’s belt, looped over twice, along the cage bars. “Here comes the cavalry, Spike. All the people who care if you live or die. Oh, wait, my mistake.”

Wesley came down the stairs with his hands in his pockets. He looked from one vampire to the other. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Robin Wood trailed a few steps behind and stopped on the steps, one hand on the banister.

“Just catching up. It’s great to see family now and again,” Angelus said.

At the same time, Spike strained toward Wesley, “I don’t know what he told you, mate, but I’m one of the good guys now. I need to get back to Sunnydale. They need me there.”

Wesley walked between the vampires. He faced Spike. “Is he much like he was without a soul, Angelus?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay that much attention to minions and underlings.”

“Call Buffy. She can vouch for me. Tell her…”

“Spike,” Wesley’s voice was calm and even. “I believe you. But you’re needed here as well.” He looked up at the steps. Spike followed his gaze to Robin Wood, who stood impassive in shadow, only the gold ring in his ear catching any light.

But it wasn’t Robin Wes was looking for. Lorne appeared at the top of the steps and, glancing anxiously about, hurried down them. He adjusted the front of his brightly colored jacket. “Don’t make me regret this,” he said, pointedly, to Wesley.

“You won’t,” Wesley said.

Angelus groaned loudly. “Is this serious? Wesley, I’m going to have to kill you twice for making me witness this.”

Spike licked his lips, feeling a modicum of hope. “What’s this? Some kind of lie detector? That’s a Pylean. Didn’t know those blokes had any powers other than detachable heads.”

“Don’t remind me,” Lorne said. He pushed Wesley gently aside and looked Spike up and down, hands out a little, feeling the lack of drink (why did he leave it up there?) and, more importantly, a sound system. “Here’s how it goes, ‘Nilla wafer. You sing a few bars of a song, any song. It’ll call out your soul to me, let me see your destiny.”

Spike blinked. “A song?” The green demon nodded. “I’ve just been tortured and tied up and you want me to sing a ditty?”

“Just pick something,” Wesley said. “Your life may depend on it.”

“God, no!” Angelus hit the bars of his cage with an open palm. “Do you have ANY idea what his musical tastes are like?”

“Right. Top of my head.” Spike licked his lips, cleared his throat, and with a little gruff start, sang, “Keep your silly ways, or throw them out the window. The wisdom of your ways: I’ve been there and I know, lots of other ways. What a jolly bad show…”

“I mean, is that supposed to be a song? Do those lyrics mean anything?”

Spike strained against his ropes and, singing a little louder, finished off the verse, “If all you ever do is business. You. Don’t. Like.”

He turned to the Pylean. “Tell me that’s enough, mate. Rest of the song’s trash without percussion.”

Wesley studied Lorne’s face closely. “No, I think that’s enough. Lorne? Shall we go upstairs?”

Lorne shook his head, still frowning.

“What?” Spike shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the whole surrealism of it all – life in balance on a song. “It’s stupid, but it’s in my range and I know it cold. Song’s only got three verses.”

“I expected something by Billy Idol,” Robin commented from the stairs.

“You can trust him,” Lorne said. “That’s all I’ll tell you. He’ll hold up his end of any bargain. And he’ll give up… everything, if he has to.”

Pity was not an expression Spike wanted to see on a seer’s face. He frowned deeply at the Pylean.

“Excellent,” Wesley said. “You may want to leave for this next part, Lorne.”

“No,” Lorne said, quietly, but raising his head. “I’ll stay.”

“Angelus,” Wesley turned to face the vampire in question, who was hanging off his bars with a comically mortified expression, as though still in the throes of agony from hearing Spike’s four lines of song. Wesley stepped up to the tape-line on the floor that marked Angelus’ maximum arm-reach. He put his hands behind his back. “I have something you want. You have something we want. Let’s trade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One further note, lyrics from "Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll" by Ian Dury and the Blockheads are punctuated in a mix of proper grammar for the sentences and getting the beat-rests right - that one comma in particular bugs me, but darn it, that's the line break!
> 
> (And yes, this is the fic I was thinking of in my song poll. How mean of me to mislead you all in the situation the song was to be used in! Really, this was my first choice and I love the song so I'm using you as validation of my tastes!)


	3. Chapter 3

Angelus smirked. “You have nothing I want.”

“Wrong. I have exactly what you want: I have control.”

Angelus rolled one wrist. “Of what? The thermostat?”

“I picture two scenarios,” Wesley said. “In one, you don’t voluntarily help us. So I have Robin,” he tilted his head toward the stairs, “tranquilize you. Then we bind you. And Spike,” he stepped to the side to allow Angelus an uninterrupted view of the other vampire, “gets to drain as much blood from your veins as he wishes. I’m fairly certain that will ensure you are weaker than him – weak enough that, with your hands bond and perhaps a lead attached, we can safely take you out and to the beast, where you can either kill him or be killed yourself.”

“I like this plan,” Spike said. He looked hopefully at Lorne, who was still frowning. “This is a good plan.”

“Shut up, Spike,” Wesley said without moving his eyes from Angelus. “I don’t want to use that plan. It puts Angel at unnecessary risk, since, regrettably, if you die, he dies. The second scenario involves you telling us how to defeat the beast. If you the information you provide is useful, Spike will be the one to be restrained, and you will decide what happens to him.”

“Not liking this plan so much, Percy.”

Wesley and Angelus continued to lock gazes. “And then, what?” Angelus asked, “You curse me with my soul for my trouble?”

“I’m offering you control, over what happens not only to you but someone else.” Wesley’s steely gaze faltered. “But your soul will be returned. I cannot… we could offer you a grace period, some time without it…”

Angelus shook his head and backed away from the bars, crossing his arms. “You can’t rob a man and then offer to give him back what’s his in exchange for his mind.”

“I said…”

“No. You don’t have the control here, Wes. I do. Because you are the one who wants. So, no. I’m not cooperating. And if you think SPIKE is going to help you force me to?” He shook his head again, “You’re a sad, confused man, Wes. Guess that cut to your throat hurt your brain too.”

Without moving an inch, Wes said, “Right. Plan A, then. Robin?”

The dark figure nodded and disappeared up the stairs, presumably to fetch the tranq gun.

Spike looked from Wes to Lorne. The Englishman seemed more reasonable, now, but there was still an edge to him that kept Spike from trusting him, and the Pylean’s face was grave, as though watching an accident in slow-motion.

“You poor bugger,” he said to Lorne. “Seein’ the future’s a bitch, innit? Drives most oracles batty.”

“I don’t see the future,” Lorne said. He straightened his jacket nervously. “Not all of it.”

Angelus sighed. “See you in a few, Spikey.” He stretched out on his cot with his hands behind his head, looking content.

Wesley neither moved nor spoke until Robin returned and fired two shots from the base of the stairwell, hitting Angelus in his up-turned arm. Angelus didn’t react to the hits. He’d no doubt been preparing for them.

Robin strolled up to Wes. “I don’t like this plan of yours. It’s risky.”

“Untie Spike,” Wes said, glancing at Lorne.

Robin cocked his riffle. “Wes?”

But Wesley wasn’t paying attention to Robin now. He stood directly in front of Spike while Lorne bent to untie the bespelled ropes. “There is a beast out there who has blotted the sun from the sky over Los Angeles. We don’t know what his ultimate goal is, but we have been unable to defeat him. He’s stronger and faster than any vampire, and he appears impervious to any weapon. I trust I don’t have to explain why we need the sun back?”

“Not too fond of it myself, but yeah, I can see why you’d like a bit of sun now and again,” Spike wriggled his arm free as soon as the ropes relaxed and set to helping Lorne remove the rest.

“Angelus knows something about the beast. It recognized him. Angel himself admitted that Angelus may have knowledge he isn’t privy to, so we purposefully extracted his soul in the hopes of having Angelus defeat the beast. Not surprisingly, Angelus has been less than forthcoming.”

Spike nodded. “Not surprisingly.” He stood, shaking the loose ropes off. “Excuse me, Percy, but you had me tortured. Can we stop talking like I came around for tea?”

“Right. Down to it. You heard my proposal. Drain Angelus. Then you will take him with you and find the beast. He will either tell you how to defeat it, or put himself in grave danger. If possible, return with Angelus unharmed and the beast dead. Can you do that?”

Spike nodded toward Robin. “Are you going to offer me cue-ball there like you offered me to Angelus?”

Unfazed by said cue-ball standing behind him with a gun, Wesley said, “If that’s what it takes. I’m guessing it won’t. You’ll be free, and Angelus will get his soul back, and none of us will ever have to see one another again.”

“That’s some motivation.” Spike turned to Lorne. “What do you say about all this, mate?”

“Pumpkin, this will all end badly or not at all.”

“Right.” Spike wiped his palms on his jeans. “Then let’s feed me a little blood o’ the sire.”

They let him into the cage – Wesley stood outside the door the whole time, poised to slam it shut, while Robin held the tranquilizer gun, not necessarily aimed at Angelus.

Angelus looked peaceful, asleep, very much like Angel. Spike crouched next to him and pulled a piece of black t-shirt out of his hand. “Ta very much,” he muttered and tucked that into his back pocket. He looked up at Lorne, who still watched anxiously, then back down at Angelus.

It wasn’t that he felt a pang of guilt at draining another vampire… it was just the principle of the thing. Angelus, helpless. He pushed the big git’s head to the side and sunk his teeth in to the meatiest part of the shoulder.

He pulled mouthfuls of blood from sluggish veins until he started to feel the light-headed buzz of the tranquilizer. He stood again, letting the holes bleed out rather than laving them closed. “That… that should be enough to weaken him. Temporarily. Hurry up and get him chained up, eh?”

Spike had only just stepped away when Wesley was there. He snapped a cuff around one of Angel’s big mitts, then turned and grabbed Spike’s hand, snapping the other cuff to him.

“What the hell?”

Wesley backed up. “Pick him up. You’ll want to get a head start before he wakes.”

“You can’t leave me chained to him! How are we supposed to fight this beast?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Wesley said. He leaned forward and whispered over the chain between them. He stepped back. “Find the beast. Kill the beast. Bring Angelus back. Then you’ll be free.”

Spike struggled to get Angel’s considerable weight balanced against his shoulder with one hand trapped between them. He nodded to Wesley and started dragging the heavy sod toward the stairs. “And today started out so good,” he said.


	4. Chapter 4

That nice Fred girl was in the lobby of the hotel, holding the hand of a black fellow with a rounder, kinder face than Principal Wood. “Oh gosh,” Fred said, and started toward Spike. “What happened?”

“That’s the guy? What’s he doing with Angel?”

Spike held off, noticing that the black man had a stake in hand. “Ask your pal Wes,” he said, and continued his slow progress toward the door.

Gunn grabbed Angel’s unconscious arm and tried to hold the vampires, but just then Wesley appeared, “It’s all right, let them go.”

Gunn scowled at Wesley. “What are you doing, giving orders around here? And who’s that?” He pointed at Robin, who emerged like a tall shadow behind the watcher.

Wesley ignored him, his eyes intent on the pair of vampires. Spike dragged Angel up the steps with a few mutters, “Thanks for the help. No, don’t need any, really, he ISN’T twice as heavy as he looks.”

“Head to the center of town,” Wesley said. “Take Willshire Boulivard and look for a column of flame. You’ll find the beast there.”

Gunn gaped, turning from Wes to Angel and back again. Fred gripped his hand tight.

“Wesley,” Fred said, “What’s going on?”

“They’re going to defeat the beast,” Robin said. “Whatever that means.”

“Can we trust him…” Gunn was watching Spike lever his way out the hotel doors. “We can’t just let Angelus go like that!”

“He’s not free,” Wesley said. “We’re trusting Spike to keep a tether on him. And you and Fred are going to tail them, keep a close eye on what they do. Take the tranquilizer gun.”

“And I say again,” Gunn stepped away from Fred. “Who put you in charge? You were persona-non-around-here five days ago.”

Fred kept her hold on Gunn despite his attempt to free himself and look more menacing. “Gunn and I both feel it isn’t right to just use somebody like this, even if they are a vampire and all. Don’t we, Gunn?”

Wesley walked into the office.

Robin checked the tranquilizer darts he’d put in his pocket and strode toward the door. “Whatever the rest of you decide, I’m not letting those vampires out of my sight.”

Gunn sighed. “I’m gonna need some Cliff notes for this.”

“I’m confused too,” Fred said. “Where’s Lorne? He can tell us what happened.”

Wes re-emerged in his suit coat, stuffing some paper in the pocket. He looked at Gunn and Fred in surprise. “You’re still here?”

“What the hell is going on?” Gunn raised and lowered his hands.

“You’re going to follow Spike and Angelus, unless you want to risk one or the other of them getting loose. With any luck, they’ll take care of this beast once and for all. Angelus won’t fail to act in his own self-interest.”

“But where are YOU going?” Fred asked.

“To get reinforcements,” Wesley said, and headed to the back of the hotel.

“Better do as he says, Freddles,” Lorne appeared by the stairs, looking tired. “I’m going to do my part to combat sobriety.” He climbed the stairs, not looking back.

Fred looked at Gunn.

Gunn shrugged.

***

Spike dragged Angel’s limp body to the nearest payphone, which was dead. So he dragged him into the nearest pub, which was deserted, the door broken open, and the interior dark. Spike draped Angelus on a bar stool and picked up the phone that was sitting on it. His silent prayers were met with a dial tone. He punched numbers quickly with the same hand that held the handset – there wasn’t much choice, his other hand was cuffed. “Come on, pick up, Red. Do we ever need you here.”

After the third ring, a voice answered, “Summers residence.”

Spike leaned against the bar in relief. “Dawn. It’s Spike.”

Her voice was cold. “Why are you calling here?”

“I’m in trouble. Don’t hang up. Is the witch around?”

“The…? You’re calling for WILLOW? You have the nerve to disappear like that and then you call for WILLOW?”

Spike sucked in his breath. “Niblet, I’m in LA, and I’m going to be dust by morning if you don’t get Willow on the phone. Please.”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” she said, and he heard the phone being set down hard.

“Come on Red,” he muttered, rolling his eyes ceiling-ward for the unforgiving heart of a teenage girl.

That was when the body he was holding propped on the barstool gave a start. Spike yanked hard on the cuff to give himself as much length as he could and pressed his hand and a knee into Angelus’ back. “Good evening, sweetheart. Hold still, yeah? Daddy’s on the phone.”

Angelus stiffened. Spike pressed his lips together, not moving or breathing.

A perfectly silent, and still, battle was waged: in two minds strengths and weaknesses were listed and considered, moves and counter-moves. Angelus was perfectly still, though Spike knew he was awake, and that he knew he knew.

The phone clicked. Willow’s voice said, “Hello?”

Angelus threw himself backwards off the stool, taking Spike’s arm with him. The phone clattered uselessly to the bar as Spike shouted, “Willow!” He fell on top of Angelus. Had guessed he would. He rolled then, onto the big git. That was his plan; roll over and around the larger vampire, trapping his arms.

But Angelus rolled with him, and soon the bigger vampire was using all his weight to his advantage, pressing his bound forearm into Spike’s neck. “That was stupid, boy. Or just plain slow. A distraction we BOTH knew was coming.”

Spike turned his head to the side to alleviate the pressure on his neck. “Keep lecturing. I’ll fight, yeah?” He arched his back off the floor.

“OH! So eager, boy!” Angelus jeered as Spike raised his hips to tip the heavier vamp off of him. They rolled and Angelus struck with fangs.

***

Fred and Gunn ran into the night, armed with whatever they could grab quickly from the weapons cabinet. “Look!” Fred took the lead. “Over there.”

Gunn squinted, not seeing what she was talking about – and wasn’t she the one who had to wear glasses? But then they were running across the street and he saw it – a familiar figure in the doorway of the old sports bar.

Robin stood framed by the faint light of the bar’s interior – beer signs left on when the occupants evacuated. His hands were in his pockets, his back to the street.

Gunn decided not to let the taller man get away with that kind of arrogance and wrapped him in a half-nelson. Robin twisted to escape, but Gunn was ready. He pulled him close. “Hi, name’s Gunn. I repeat: who the HELL are you and what are you doing in my town?”

“Just came… to take care of a vampire,” Robin hissed. “I’m one of the good guys.”

“Oh my gosh!” Fred pushed her way into the bar.

Crashing into and spreading apart the chairs and tables, Spike and Angelus rolled around in the center of the room. Angelus kept trying to bite Spike, his fangs sinking in to flesh only to have it ripped away. Blood was smeared all over Spike’s bare torso.

“Stop it! Someone stop them!” Fred skirted the writhing bodies, her hands out, unsure what to do.

“You’re just watching this?” Gunn jerked Robin’s head back. “This some kind of ‘good guy’ thing? Because it wasn’t in my playbook.”

Spike rose up on one knee, grimacing with determination he punched, and punched, and punched.

His knee in the center of Angelus’ chest, he pulled their cuffed wrists up into Angelus’ line of sight. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Spike glanced up then, saw the two men at the door, and Fred brandishing a chair uncertainly.

On the bar, a tinny little voice came from a plastic speaker, “Hello? Spike?”


	5. Chapter 5

There was a flash of light, and then Willow stood, frowning at the wall of the dingy bar. Then she turned and noticed Spike kneeling on Angel’s chest, both of them bloody.

“Placidus,” she said, waving her hand at them.

She then looked with even more confusion at Fred, still holding a chair up.

“H… h… how?” Fred was looking at the walls, quite frightened. “There isn’t a portal, is there? Oh god, I hate portals.”

“Just a teleport spell. I’m getting real good at it.” Willow smiled what she hoped was a winning smile at the cute physicist. “Oh, Principal Wood!” She held a hand out and uttered another word, throwing Gunn into the street.

“Don’t! That’s my boyfriend!” Fred dropped the chair and ran to grab Willow’s arm.

Robin Wood rubbed his throat and stepped into the room, looking at Willow as one would look at an unleashed lion. “Can you control them?” He waved his hand toward the two vampires, now frozen in their struggle.

“Well, I mean, I can keep them there. I don’t want to brag…”

“Angel doesn’t have his soul,” Fred said. “And don’t listen to him!” She waved at Robin, “He brought Spike here to kill him!”

Willow frowned. “That’s… well, I mean, a lot of people want to kill Spike, so I guess I have to forgive it a little, but… big on the soul-having good-guy side now. Does Buffy know about this?”

“He killed my mother,” Robin said, simply. He had other, even more sound arguments, but when he opened his mouth, that was what came out.

“Oh,” said Willow.

Gunn ran back in with his ax in both hands. “What the hell was that?”

“Boyfriend!” Fred jumped in front of Willow, arms waving.

Willow waved shyly at Gunn. “Hi. Sorry about the zap. I thought you were a bad guy.”

Robin said, “What are you going to do, Miss Rosenberg? Going to freeze us all in place?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. But if Angelus is the danger, all I really need is an orb of thesula…”

“No!” Gunn and Fred said in unison. At Willow’s confusion, Fred explained, “We need Angelus to defeat the beast that blotted the sun out of the Los Angeles sky. Somehow, there’s knowledge he has that Angel, with the soul, doesn’t.” Fred twisted her fingers. “We’re not really sure why.”

Willow nodded, slowly. “Okay… okay. Um… well, I could do this…” she stepped forward and waved her hands. Spike and Angelus rose into the air, separated apart, their linked hands between them, like specimens laid out on a mounting board. “Anima,” she said, and both Vampires blinked, shook their heads, and squirmed in their invisible bonds. “Okay. Hi guys. Remember me? Super powerful witch? You’re kinda…” she tapped her fists together. “You’re kinda at my command.”

Spike relaxed. “Hey Red. Got myself in a bit of a stitch…”

“Willow, it’s me, Angel. You have to help me. They’ve got me….”

“Oh so not falling for it,” Willow said, and with a subtle movement of her fingers, Angelus’ lips snapped shut. “I don’t really know what’s going on here, so Fred? Why don’t you ask the questions?”

Fred stepped forward, looking back at Gunn for support. He came to stand beside her and took her hand. “Okay. Um… Angelus? How do we defeat the beast?”

“Aaand, veritas!” Willow made the same hand gesture.

“It’s impervious to weapons. You can only bury it alive or stab it with a knife made of its own… what the hell did you do to me, witch?”

Willow smiled. “They hate it when you make them tell the truth against their will.”

“They should hate it,” Spike said. “Think you’re letting this get to your head. Stop with the mojo. I had him about to talk.”

“Veritas?” Willow tilted her head.

“Bloody pillock woulda died without talkin’… hey stop that!”

“That is one handy spell,” Fred said, admiringly.

Willow beamed. “You chew on a sprig of mint and wear Queen Anne’s Lace each morning and…”

“Red, if you’re finished seducing the locals, how about GETTING ME DOWN?”

“Just a sec. We’re not done interrogating. ‘Its own’ what?”

Spike felt trapped in amber, and the whole of his skin tugged as Angelus struggled.

Angelus was breathing hard through clenched teeth.

Willow frowned. “Answer. Veritas!”

Angelus lowered his chin, glaring at the witch under his drawn brows. Spike felt the tension. “Damn it, Red, he’s not going to answer you. Why do I have to be a part of this?”

“Well it would take too long to get you down!” She waved her hands in frustration. “I’m not super everything power girl, you know. Still working on the whole not channeling evil thing. Otherwise I’d break you apart and then, well…” she shook her head violently. “No. Not going there.”

“We’re at war here,” Robin said. “The vampires wouldn’t hesitate to use whatever means necessary on you.”

Gunn scowled at the principal. “Would you shut the hell up while you’re in my town?”

“Baby,” Fred admonished.

“It’s my town,” Gunn folded his arms. “I paid for it.”

Fred shook her head. “This is getting us nowhere. I mean, all we know now is that this… thing can’t be hurt. We kinda knew that already. Wes must have shot it twenty times!”

Robin folded his arms. “I’d have a suggestion, but apparently it isn’t ‘my town’.”

“Do what that barmy watcher said,” Spike strained against his invisible bonds. “Take Angelus to the beast, then he’ll HAVE to defeat it.”

“Wes isn’t ‘barmy’,” Fred said, making a mental note to look the word up on urbandictionary.com as soon as the apocalypse was averted.

Angelus laughed. His slow, aching laugh had a way of silencing conversation. He looked from a scowling Spike to the anxious faces below. “You’ll never defeat the beast. You don’t even know the right questions to ask.”

“No,” Willow said, her eyes darkening. “But I know the right vampire to torture.”

“Do you?” Angelus chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you exactly how. But I want what’s coming to me. What Wes promised.”

From the way everyone tensed and frowned, Willow suspected she didn’t want to know what Wes had promised. “Um… you guy?”

“Gunn,” Gunn said.

“Yeah. See if you can un-do those cuffs? Or cut them? Then I can let Spike down and keep a hold on Mr. Evil Pants.”

Gunn hefted his ax and took a step forward.

“Wait you git!” Was all that got out before the ax smacked hard against the chain between vampires. They both fell toward the break a little, like people lying on a bed when a heavy weight is thrown between them.

Spike groaned as he hit the floor.

Angelus spoke quietly. “I’ll remember this, Willow. Who do you care about most, these days? Is it Xander? I’ll find him. I’ll make him suffer for days.”

Spike straightened to his full height and looked straight at Robin. Limping past him, he said, “Let’s go home, Red.”

Willow frowned, trying to keep one eye on Angelus. “But… there’s this beast thing. Sun blocked out. We should help.”

“Can’t say I’m feeling particularly charitable,” Spike said. “We have our own problems.”

Fred held out a hand to Spike, but he just glared at it. “I’m sorry,” she said, “For how we treated you. And I know anything I say or promise isn’t going to make up for it, but there are innocent people in this city. Lots more than tv makes it out to be. You don’t help us and innocent people will die. And ANGELUS.” She glared at the vampire in question. “Angelus gets to go on. Do you want that?”

Spike hooked his thumbs in his waistband. “What’s the plan, then?”

Willow and Fred exchanged looks.

Gunn rested his ax on his shoulder. “Wicked Witch of the West Coast here keeps Darth Vamp under control, we find the beast, we throw one problem at the other.”

“Can you move him?” Fred frowned.

Willow smirked. “I could make him cha-cha.” Her smile faded at the grim looks leveled at her. “Oh, but I won’t. Cha-cha, I mean.” She stepped aside and gestured. Angelus glided through the air before her. “Just point me in the direction of the beastie!”

It was a strange procession down Wilshire Avenue. A floating Angelus first, then Willow, with her hands out as though prepared to catch him if he fell. Then Spike, resolutely refusing to look at anyone but those in front of him. Then Gunn and Robin, bristling at each other like rival tom cats, and Fred, trying to stay between them and interrupt the testosterone-fueled glares.

“I wonder where Wes went?” Fred said.

“I don’t,” Spike responded. “He can rot.”

“Wesley was Buffy’s watcher for a while,” Willow said.

“Is that supposed to improve my opinion of him?”

Angelus sighed. “I’m enjoying the whole being carried, but how do you expect me to battle this beast? With my rapier-like wit?”

“Not that I was fond of the handcuff idea,” Spike said, “but he has a point.”

“We let him loose,” Willow conceded. “But we keep an eye on him. And, hey, Magic not running out here.”

They reached the warehouse where Gunn said the beast was last sighted.

“I’ll head right, watch the exits along that side of the building. Q-ball and blondievamp can take the left,” Gunn said.

“I don’t take orders from you,” Robin said.

“I’ve been killing vamps since before you knew what they were,” Gunn said.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Boys!” Fred cried in exasperation. “Come on, Gunn. Let’s go right. Willow, you’ll be okay?”

Willow was biting her lower lip. “Oh yeah. Fish in a barrel. Easy.”

They split. Spike ignored Gunn’s plan and followed Willow into the warehouse. He stayed in a fighting stance as Angelus was lowered to the ground and freed.

Angelus smirked at him over his shoulder, adjusted his shirt, and headed into the dark maze of boxes and pallets.

“What was that about?” Willow looked back at Spike.

“Arrogant pillock,” was all Spike had for explanation. He followed Angelus into the dark.

The beast was talking to someone. His gravel-and-fire voice booming through the cavernous space.

“The sacrifices are in place, master. Soon your glory will be known to this world. All will love you or perish.”

Angelus snuck around. He felt Spike’s presence, tailing him, and smelled the humans. Well, there was no reason not to knock the stupid rock-monster out of the picture. He hated competition. Sniffing, he found what he was looking for.

“Yadda yadda, blah blah,” Angelus said, tossing the bone-knife from hand to hand. “You know, I’d think if I had something that was the ONLY thing that could defeat me?” He jammed the knife hard into the beast’s back. “I’m thinking… safety deposit box?”

The beast howled as inner fire cracked through its stony skin, breaking it apart and crumbling it to dust. Angelus straightened with a sigh and tossed the bone-knife at Spike’s feet. “Well, THAT was disappointing.”

“Yeah, you’re a real bleedin’ hero,” Spike said.

Sunlight rolled across the sky, peppering the warehouse from windows and cracks. Spike took a small step out of a beam, his eyes firm on Angelus.

“So, what? Now we start this again?”

There was a clang and a squeal of tires outside. Spike didn’t move his gaze from Angelus. “Getting a soul… hurts like a bitch. I’m gonna stick around to see it from this side.”

“You can’t defeat me. Not you and that little witch.”

“Don’t have to. I just gotta wait.”

Angelus made a dive to the left. Spike followed at a relaxed pace. The sun was out, now. And he heard the others talking… Wes was outside, and with him there was a feeling of… slayer.

Spike caught up with Angelus trying to sneak out the loading dock, crouching in the shadow of a truck. “That’s just pathetic, mate,” he said, standing safely in the shade of the dock.

Angelus glared. Wesley and Faith walked into view, armed, sun glinting on the points of their crossbows. “The beast… has a master. You accomplished nothing! You’ve killed the footman! The hired help.”

“Maybe,” Wes said. “But that was the part we needed you for. Faith?”

The dark-haired slayer drew a pistol from her back pocket and fired.

Spike and the watcher met each other’s gazes for a moment. “Red?” Spike called into the darkness behind him.

Willow jogged up to him, a little breathless. "Ready to go?" she asked.

Spike nodded, eyes still on the watcher. "Yeah. I've seen enough."

The End


End file.
